A Little Help
by JohnnyCade4EVR
Summary: So this brief one-shot was prompted by an interview with Tom Holland and Benedict Cumberbatch wherein Tom suggests a fun Spider-Man/Dr. Strange crossover. Rated Kplus cuz there's no swearing or gore or anything but I mean it'll help to have seen Infinity War so... Set in a sort-of AU after IW (full description inside) www. youtube. com/ watch?v TxjEeAI1gD0


***hi idk when this takes place so for now we'll call it an AU where everyone who was dusted was brought back somehow and Tony's probably dead but that's not the point we're just gonna roll with it! I can't say this was my idea, in fact, it came from none other than Tom Holland himself (2:10)! And being the dutiful fangirl I am, how could I **_**not**_ **write it? I only thought to search to see if anyone else had picked up the prompt when I was almost finished with mine, but I just found one and they're quite different sooo ("Headache" by Literaturefangirl) also I don't live in NY but I tried to google the subway stuff sorry if it's inaccurate... Anyway please enjoy this little one-shot inspired by our favorite webhead :) ***

Saying that English class was painfully boring was usually just a hyperbolic expression he liked to use, but for Peter, it became literal when his throbbing brain tried to process his teacher's monotonous lecture about _Siddhartha_. It hadn't just been English, his head had been protesting all light and sound with decreasing tolerance since Peter had woken up that morning. He'd tried taking some aspirin, but it didn't seem to be strong enough to work with his body's spider-enhanced biochemistry. At lunch, Peter felt so nauseated that he barely touched his food. Ned suggested he go to the nurse, but Peter insisted that was the last thing he should do. He had to avoid most doctors at all cost so as not to risk exposing his identity. He kept reminding himself that he was strong and that people get headaches all the time and that it would go away soon if he just took it easy.

After school, he decided not to go on patrol. Just the thought of swinging around or perching on a rooftop gave him vertigo. He laid down in his room in the dark for a while until May got home and needed help unpacking the groceries. For her sake, he ate most of his dinner. For his grades' sake, he attempted his calculus homework, but found the usually simple problems dizzying and went to bed early. It was a good thing he did because it took a good amount of time to fall asleep. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, as they always do when one is tired and trying to sleep. Maybe headaches were just a side effect of returning from a dusty oblivion. But then again, what if he hadn't… _come back_ right? What if something was actually wrong? Was that even possible? It wasn't as if half of the population of the universe being annihilated was a frequent cosmic occurrence, so Peter had never really considered these possibilities. He eventually managed to calm his mind enough to drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he thought he was feeling better, but the migraine returned full-force by second period and nagged at him the rest of the day.

By the third day, Peter's patience was wearing thin. He had an exceptionally difficult time translating the sentences on his Spanish quiz no matter how hard he tried to concentrate. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. When he opened them again, there was no improvement. He wanted to call May and have her dismiss him, but she was at work and probably wouldn't be able to answer her phone. The only way he could get the school to call her would be to go to the nurse and be deemed unfit to stay. That wasn't an option, so Peter grit his teeth and scribbled out the last of the translations. In one swift motion, Peter handed in his test and swiped the bathroom pass, slipping out the door into the empty hall. He stopped for water at the bubbler on his way to the stairwell. No one ever used those stairs during class, so he plopped himself down in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest and the heels of his hands pressed into his eye sockets. He ran his fingers through his hair and over his temples, but nothing seemed to ease the excruciating pain. He pulled his phone from his pocket and hastily entered his contacts list. Selecting a name, he hesitated over the call button. He closed his eyes and brought the device to his ear. He had to hold it away as the first ring pierced through his brain. It was picked up before the third ring ended.

Peter's voice was thick as he rasped out, "I need your help. It's really important."

"Okay," came the stoic reply.

The thirty-five-minute train ride felt like an eternity, Peter finding himself feeling uncharacteristically nauseated by the motion of the car.

The normally-six-minute walk from Houston Street Station took closer to ten minutes and Peter nearly had to close his eyes to reduce the stimulation bombarding his senses. He had his earbuds in, but he couldn't tell if it was helping with the sound or just hurting his eardrums more.

Whereas he ordinarily would have bounded up the stoop in one swift jump, he took each step with slow, calculated movements. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking on the inordinate door.

It swung open immediately and the sight that Peter was met with startled him more than the abrupt movement.

Dr. Stephen Strange stood in front of the surprised teenager decked out in his full battle garb. The initial look of determination on his face morphed into confusion when he noticed the boy's casual appearance.

"Hey, Doc," Peter said.

Strange glanced around the open street, trying to scope out any danger. "Come inside."

Peter followed the instruction and was instantly grateful for the reduced sunlight. A quick scan of the room was all he could manage, but he noticed Wong standing by the staircase, seemingly also battle-ready.

"Peter, what's going on? You said it was important?"

"Yeah, um," he paused to catch his breath. The pain pulsated behind his eyes, spreading all the way to the base of his neck. "I've had this massive headache for like three days. I don't really know what to do about it. And I figured, since you're like a brain doctor, right? Maybe you'd know what could be going on? I just… I'm sorry. I didn't wanna bother you, but… I can't focus at school. I can't go on patrol. I've never really had migraines before, and I can't see a regular doctor…" he trailed off, not entirely sure if he was making a viable case for himself. Strange was the _Master of the Mystic Arts_ Peter was bugging him for help over a little headache.

The ex-surgeon sighed, undeniably slightly irritated by the boy's dramatic overstatement on the phone. But one look at the young hero was enough to convince him that Peter was serious. He was abnormally pale and his pupils were so contracted that they shouldn't have been able to hold all the guilt and anguish that lurked behind them.

Strange approached Peter and gently led him to the sofa on the left wall of the foyer. "Here, take a seat."

Peter willingly obliged.

"Have you experienced any dizziness or nausea?" Strange pressed.

"Yeah."

"Have you had any sensitivity to light?"

"Yes."

"Sound?"

"Yeah, but I've kind of had that since I got my powers. Only now, it's like everything is just… exploding."

Strange nodded. "When did the headache start?"

Peter leaned forward, resting his weary head in his hands. "Um… Two, three days ago? I don't know. I'm sorry, it's just really hard to think right now. It kinda comes in waves…" He muttered a curse as a particularly intense sensation washed over him.

Strange repositioned a few of the pillows. "Why don't you lie down. Do you feel sick now?" He produced a glass of water and offered it to Peter who sipped it cautiously.

"A little."

"Just take it easy."

Strange seemed to hesitate. "Peter, you've been through a lot. You know, migraines can be caused by stress or anxiety. Between coming back and all the losses you've had to face; if you're still trying to be a hero and go to school and carry on like normal, you could just be overexerting yourself, mentally and physically." He paused. "Have you talked to anyone?"

Peter considered this. "I mean, yeah. I talk to my aunt and Ned. But…"

"But they don't really do what you do. They didn't see all the things you saw. Everyone they love came back. There are no consequences for them because they don't remember what happened."

The younger man breathed. "I guess."

Strange nodded knowingly. "Being a superhero isn't as glamorous as cartoons make it out to be, is it?"

Peter let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head.

***okay sorry if that ending seems a little abrupt but hey this is just supposed to be a little one-shot and _I'm_ not a doctor so I can't diagnose a migraine XD oh and in the other fic like this that I mentioned that author included sling rings instead of Peter taking the bus and honestly that was so smart but I'm not a huuuuge Dr. Strange fan (sorry) so I kinda forgot about those loool... please let me know what you think!***


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